On the Other Side of the Door
by Jade Taylor
Summary: When a man presumed to be dead shows up on Alex's doorstep, his entire life will change. Previously titled "Dead Man Walking"
1. Chapter 1

Sorry it is so short. I just got this crazy idea, and I wanted to see if it was worth considering. I'm warning you now that I am American, so my English terms might be off. correct me if I'm wrong about anything.

And I'm sorry about the crappy title. I couldn't think of anything else, and I didn't want to just write "Untitled". If you have any suggestions, please tell me.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Alex lay on his bed, homework spread out in front of him. He was struggling to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting over the events of the past year. MI6… His first mission… Yassen Gregorovich… Getting shot… Going to space… Ash…

He shook his head vigorously to dispel the memories before they could become more painful. He was fifteen now. That life was behind him. He refused to be dragged back in again. And if MI6 called him, he would personally go to the bank and shove the phone up right up Blunt's ass.

When the phone rang, he jumped up from his bed and ran down the hall, calling down to Jack that he would get it. Repeating his previous thoughts in his head, he picked it up.

"Hello?" he asked warily.

"Hey, mate. What are you doing?" Alex breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Tom. It appeared as if MI6 were going to leave him alone. For now.

"Probably just hanging out with Jack."

"What? It's your birthday. You've got to do something!"

Alex sighed. "Jack has probably planned something. But it isn't a big deal."

"Oh, shut it. It is a big deal. I'm coming over there tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Ouch! It almost sounds as if you don't like me anymore!" He could hear the grin in Tom's voice. "I'm coming because birthdays are meant to be celebrated. And to be properly celebrated, there has to be a party of at least two other people."

"Or, you're coming over to eat the cake."

"Jack's making cake?"

Alex smiled fondly at his friend's antics. "Yep. That double layered one she made last year."

"I'm definitely coming over now. I challenge you to a rematch cake eating contest."

"I don't know Tom. I wouldn't want you to get sick again."

"Oh shut it! I'll see you later."

"Bye." He hung up and was about to return to his room when he heard a knocking on the door. He swiftly ran down the stairs and yanked open the door. Standing before him, was a tall man with dirty blond hair and serious blue eyes that warmed at the sight of him. He looked extremely familiar, but for some reason Alex couldn't place him. It nagged at the very edge of his mind and caused him to tense up warily, alert for any possible threat.

The man's face lit up in a smile. "Alex."

Alex narrowed his eyes at the man, but he seemed content to just stand on his door step and stare at him. The boy cleared his throat and prompted, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Pain flashed briefly across the man's face, but he quickly recovered. "I guess it's been awhile. Let me introduce myself." He extended his hand, smile still present. "Hello, Alex. My name is John Rider."

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HA! I bet you thought it was going to be Yassen.

I'm not very pleased with this chapter. It was more of a filler to get things started. Sorry for the crappy quality.

So? What did you think? Should I even bother continuing? Drop a line. PLEASE!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, all.

Sorry this has taken a bit. I admire those of you who can shoot out chapters at least once a week, but I am not one of those people. There was a bit of an awkward stage halfway through where I was like, "Well, now what am I supposed to do. I can't just post 400 words and say 'Here's your chapter!'" It took about a week to really put something together. I would have written it earlier, but I was insanely busy. Homework sucks, man!

So stop listening to my babbling and read it, already!

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_Pain flashed briefly across the man's face, but he quickly recovered. "I guess it's been awhile. Let me introduce myself." He extended his hand, smile still present. "Hello, Alex. My name is John Rider."_

**CHAPTER TWO**

He was still frozen in place when Jack came to see who was at the door and why Alex was taking so long.

"Alex?" she called as she walked in from the kitchen. "Who's here? It better not be those bastards from— oh my _God_!" Her face held an expression of shock. She had never met this man, but she had certainly seen enough pictures to recognize him. Besides, he looked like an older version of his brother, without the distance that almost always held a place in Ian's eyes.

He looked like an older version of his son.

The fact that Jack was able to recognize this man in less time than he did was enough to make him slam the door in the man's— his _father_'s— face.

"Alex!" Jack exclaimed as he walked past her without a second glance, but he continued to ignore her as he stalked down the hallway.

He vaguely heard her opening the door again and apologizing for his behavior, as well as offering John (rather awkwardly) some tea or coffee. He quickly drowned them out and hurried back upstairs to his bedroom. He needed to think.

It couldn't actually be happening. He couldn't really be here. There was no way he could be alive. Ash told him that he had killed him. What reason would he have to lie, especially as he was dying?

A million questions ran through Alex's mind as he paced his bedroom. He could hear the soft murmur of conversation drifting in from the kitchen downstairs. He knew that it was probably impolite to ignore the _guest_, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His brain was too scrambled to do anything more than sputter out a stream of questions that would most likely remain unanswered, trying to connect Point A with Point B. There wasn't much progress being made.

Unless… He was outraged that he hadn't thought of it before. Plastic surgery could do wonders on a person's appearance. He had seen it firsthand. He himself had looked into the eyes of someone who looked exactly like him, had had to fight and inevitably outwit his copy.

And it wasn't like there was no motive. There were several people who would be more than happy to see him dead. And getting someone who looked like his father to do it would be the perfect plan, seeing as snipers and attacking him head on didn't seem to be working. Still, getting surgery just to kill him seemed pretty drastic, but he had seen crazier things.

He had to act quickly. He didn't want to know what would happen if he left this imposter alone with Jack for too long. She was in danger the longer he waited (and he was so angry at himself for allowing that, for allowing the only family he had left brush so close with the death that came with his job).

He quickly strode to his bed and knelt down so he could reach under his mattress to grab the pocket knife he kept there. He needed something to protect himself with, and if MI6 wouldn't allow him to have a gun, he would just make do with this.

He ghosted down the stairs, being careful to keep his feet on the side of the steps so they wouldn't make as much noise, skipping the especially creaky one half way down.

He peered slightly around the doorway. He was lucky. The man was sitting at the kitchen table, facing away from him. Jack was pouring hot water into two mugs at the counter, with her back to him as well. That was an added bonus. He didn't want her eyes to alert the imposter. But that meant he had to do this quickly, before either of them saw him. He needed to keep the element of surprise. He had no doubt that this man was highly trained and would fight back if given notice, and Jack was too close. Alex couldn't risk her getting caught in the crossfire.

He saw Jack start to turn towards him, mugs of tea in hand, and lunged forward. He had the blade of the pocket knife pressed to the imposter's neck before he could turn his head to look at him. The man tensed, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Alex!" Jack yelled, dropping the mugs, causing them to shatter with a loud _crash_. The hot water splashed her legs, but she didn't notice. She was motionless, her eyes fixed on Alex. She wanted move so she could stop him, but she was afraid that moving would only cause him to act quicker. She was scared. She had never seen Alex like this. He was always wary, sure, but never… cold. He was in full mission mode, and she didn't like it.

Alex didn't dare to look at Jack. His eyes remained on the man, looking for any signs of movement. His eyes were surprised, and locked on Alex's.

Alex willed himself to bury his knife into the man's throat, but he couldn't force his hand to move. It was the same reason the Alex look-alike hesitated to kill him so many months before. It was too _familiar_. This man looked exactly like John Rider. Even though he knew it wasn't him, knew his father was long dead, Alex couldn't bring himself to kill anyone who looked like his father. He silently cursed himself for his weakness. Weakness in a job like his would get him killed, and needed to be eradicated.

"Get up, slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them." He commanded the man. The words sounded like they came from some bad mafia movie, but the way he said them made it clear that he was serious.

"Alex…" The man tried to reason, but Alex was having none of it.

"Now." He ordered, his voice deadly.

The imposter slowly got up, his hands slightly raised to show Alex he wasn't using them. He quickly searched the man, making sure he was always alert so that if the imposter tried anything, he would be ready. He removed the small handgun from the holster on his ankle and aimed it at the man, flicking the safety off as he did so, ignoring the choked sound Jack made in the back of her throat at his easy use of it.

"Now walk slowly towards the door, facing me." When the imposter didn't move, he tightened his grip on the gun, letting the man's gaze rest there. He wasn't playing games. He would shoot this man if he didn't comply. He was just making sure the man was well aware of it. "_Walk._"

He followed the man out of the kitchen, keeping far enough away so that the imposter wouldn't be able to try and grab the gun without him noticing, but close enough so that he always remained in sight.

He ordered the look-alike to open the door and continued to make him walk until he was on the sidewalk, a good two meters away from the house. Alex remained in the doorway, knowing that if any of his neighbors saw him with a gun, there would be trouble (half of them were already suspicious of him). He didn't want to have MI6 bust him out of jail again.

He continued to point the gun at the man as he said with bone-chilling calmness, "If you or any of your employers come after me again, I will kill them without hesitation," before closing and locking the door on the man that so greatly resembled his father.

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Interesting, interesting. Were you expecting that? So, what do you think? I need the encouragement, because I have a hard time staying focused on longer stories. So please, drop a review.

And on that note, thank you all for reading. I was shocked. Yes, I am a person who freaks out over 2 reviews, let alone 14. So, wow.  
My one-shot for Twilight (which I thought was so much better than this one), was 4,238 words long, and got 1 review, 92 hits, and no favorites.  
The first chapter of this fan fiction was 580 words long, and got 14 reviews, 278 hits, 7 favorites, and 19 alerts. So I am very happy. THANK-YOU!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Things have been pretty insane around here. But a couple of days ago I was like "A four day weekend, a perfect time to finish it!" So I finished the chapter and was going to upload it when a massive amount of pop-ups attacked my computer. Nothing we do will get rid of them. Even now I'm fighting them off. Not only that, but it decided to restart itself whenever I was doing something. Eachtime I would get to this website, the internet closed and the computer would turn itself off. So here I am now, on the very last day of my vacation, when I'm supposed to be doing my homework, uploading this chapter. All for you.

But I found a new and better title for the story. What do you think of it? I was kind of thinking "Why didn't I think of this before?" I have the basic plot of the story all worked out in my head, and this fits so much better with the story. In physical and metaphorical aspects. You'll get it when I finish this story.

So enjoy!

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_He continued to point the gun at the man as he said with bone-chilling calmness, "If you or any of your employers come after me again, I will kill them without hesitation," before closing and locking the door on the man that so greatly resembled his father._

**CHAPTER THREE**

Alex had decided to spend the afternoon cleaning his room. He had finally finished with all of the schoolwork he owed by camping out in his bedroom over his weeklong vacation. He only came out to eat, shower, or use the bathroom, and when Jack insisted that he needed a break (Showering also sometimes required persuasion, but he was a teenage boy, and therefore allowed to smell sometimes. Jack didn't agree). But it had been worth it in the end, because he was finally caught up.

Unfortunately, because he was directing all of his efforts towards his work, his bedroom suffered some negligence. Clothes and failed attempts at work littered the floor, dirty dishes plagued his desk, and his pillows and blankets had been strewn about as he constantly moved around his room to stay comfortable. Ian, as he was very adamant about neatness, wouldn't have been pleased. And while he wasn't there to lecture him about it, Alex still felt the responsibility to tidy up after himself. Besides, he had grown to understand the reason for cleanliness, especially when he did the kind of stuff he did. A misplaced weapon or gadget could end in your death.

He quickly ended the trail his thoughts were leading him down before they had the chance to overtake him. This year was going to be very different. He had finished all the work that he had missed and his grades were therefore starting to rise again. All of his bruises and injuries had healed, and his bullet scar wasn't bothering him so much anymore. He had rejoined the football team. And he was meeting Tom and some of his old friends that night to go see a movie. It seemed that he was finally getting his life back on track.

But there was a sense of foreboding that lingered at the edges of his mind. He could feel that something was going to happen, and soon. He knew that his life wasn't going to be normal just yet.

He wrote these thoughts off as stupid paranoia. It was natural for him to feel this way after this last year. It was just the result of a little emotional trauma that would heal with a little bit of time.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he placed the last piece of trash in the waste bin, before flopping forward onto his bed. He could now relax for the remainder of the day, before returning to school tomorrow. The price you pay for normalcy. But he would take it any day. He just wanted to be free of MI6.

The doorbell rang through the house. He was feeling a slight sense of déjà vu, although he couldn't place why, so he just pushed it aside. He quickly contemplated getting up to answer the door, but decided he was much too comfortable, and to just let Jack answer it herself. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, letting his tense muscles relax for just a moment, until the doorbell rang again. He frowned; straining his ears to see if he could hear Jack moving about downstairs, but all he was able to perceive was silence.

He groaned in complaint as he sprang up from the bed and lightly jogged down the stairs. He whipped open the door. And his heart nearly stopped. Because he saw the last person he ever expected to see again.

Ash.

Alex gaped for a moment, before finally sputtering out, "Why are you here?" He frowned. Was that really the question he really wanted to ask?

Ash's eyes were cold as he replied unfeelingly, "To finish the job that we started."

He then raised the gun Alex hadn't even realized he'd been holding, and pulled the trigger.

Alex jerked awake and looked around himself quickly, his hand automatically grabbing the handgun that lay resting beside him. He was still seated on the floor against the wall in the sitting room, where he had a good view of both doors, the kitchen, and the stairs, as well as most of the windows.

He squinted his eyes against the early morning light. He must have dozed off for a little while. He glanced out the window. The sky hadn't brightened up very much, so he guessed he hadn't been asleep for more than an hour. Just the same, he felt that he should probably look around to make sure the house hadn't been infiltrated.

He straightened his back and neck, trying to ease the soreness of his muscles. He had been planted in the same spot all night, after securing the house when the man had left. Pins and needles ran through his legs as he eased himself to his feet.

Jack hadn't been pleased with his behavior. She was disconcerted by his coldness towards the man that she believed was his father. He had tried to explain to her, but she just stormed up to her room and slammed the door hard, so exasperated and shocked that she was at a loss for words. It was a bit ironic, her acting childish while he acted like an agent. He cringed inwardly at the word, but he couldn't deny that it was true.

He remembered when an hour after he had locked all of the windows and doors in the house he heard the doorknob jiggle. He had whipped open the door and aimed the gun… straight into Tom's face. He felt guilty whenever he thought of his friend's bewildered and fearful eyes, looking at him as if just meeting him for the first time. He had sent him home with a promise to explain everything tomorrow.

It was tomorrow, but probably too early to call Tom. And he really needed to get some sleep, especially if he was going to have to do this again that night. He was feeling a bit safer now that it was light again outside. He figured that whoever had sent the imposter wouldn't be stupid enough to attack in broad daylight when it was more likely for there to be witnesses. Still, he knew he had to stay alert. So he would nap on the couch. It wasn't that uncomfortable, and he had slept in worse circumstances.

He quickly made a sweep through the house, checking each room twice and relocking the doors and windows. Then he sat on the couch, shoving the gun between the cushions, making sure it was within easy reach. Then he lay back, trying to get his tensed, combat-ready body to relax. It wasn't an easy feat.

When he finally got a little comfortable— he gave up on trying to loosen up his wound muscles— he closed his eyes. But they quickly opened again when the doorbell rang.

He let out a low groan that sounded more like a growl from the back of his throat, glaring at the ceiling and willing whoever it was to go away. Who would be here this early in the morning? He doubted that the people trying to kill him would bother ringing.

When he heard no noise for a couple of seconds, he closed his eyes again. Only for the persistent chime to force them open again. He groaned in complaint as he sprang up from the couch and lightly jogged to the door. But he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He was feeling that déjà vu again, and his mind wandered back to his dream.

How did he know that an Ash imposter wouldn't be standing on the other side of the door, ready to shoot him? He knew that it was unlikely, but it was also unlikely to open the door to the spitting image of his father, and yet he had just the day before. But the doorbell rang again, this time with an impatient second ring quickly following the first, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide inside and pretend that they weren't there. If it was someone dangerous to him, they would just break their way in. And if it wasn't, they would just continue to annoy him. Still, it didn't stop him from quickly running into the living room and grabbing the gun.

He swung open the door, keeping the gun safely out of sight behind it.

And suddenly his day had gotten much worse.

Because now he was looking into the dull, grey eyes of the man he never wanted to see again.

Alan Blunt.

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Ah, crap. How'd he get sneak in here?

It didn't seem as surprising as I hoped it would be. Oh well. How did you like the dream thing in the begining? I hope that at least that surprised you.

There was a lot more that I wanted to write in this chapter, but every time I sat down to write it, it would woosh out of my head. Sorry.

Review!


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